


Post-session notes

by Zigzagwanderer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 07:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigzagwanderer/pseuds/Zigzagwanderer
Summary: I have a really high temperature right now but I wanted to join in with this quick prompt thing.





	Post-session notes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSeaVoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeaVoices/gifts).



You may begin with the closing of the door. 

Not before. It would be unwise for a soldier to _indulge_ during the battle itself.

But after. _After_.

Then, begin. 

By all means. 

A self-seduction of sorts.

With the scent of the conversation still hanging, like gunpowder smoke, in the air; for what is on the air can be thus consumed; this is the essence of taste.

So, lick the man out of the air. 

Steal, and steal him again; tongue down those trespassing atoms. 

Sit in the place that he has just left, and with the hips collect up the fading heat. 

Unbutton. Slide down. Ease apart.

Slowly move, rotate and grind into his fever, the left-behind humidity bathing the fabric. Rub hard where his palms have flayed themselves into the arms of the furniture.

And transfer those forgotten flakes of skin to the skin pulled roughly out from the lowered silk. 

Be ungentle. 

Raise the ghost of touch.

Memory will provide; each courteous manhandling can be referenced, each concerned caress drawn upon by desire, until the bones of him are remade clearly enough to feel, and it is not your hand, but his, that grasps hungrily at your prick. 

Bite down with borrowed teeth. Spill blood in the wine-red light. 

Thumb to ragged lip; the thumb is his pretended lip, his strange, unscathed softness. Push inside, brush spit against the pad, against his phantom smile, and wet your own body as he would wet you.

Trace a nipple. Tightened as scar tissue. 

Tense a thigh, as if held. Reopen the sweetest entry wound there is. 

Wonder exactly how vulgar you could be with him. 

How furtive? How pressing?

Could he be trained to come in a shadowy corridor? On the back seat of an official vehicle, while on official business? 

Emptying against Jack’s empty office wall? 

Breathe quicker, now. 

His voice; make it sound in the still room. Direct. Delicious.

Telling you to use his tight fist as you please. 

Telling you how good your mouth was on him earlier.

Telling you how he wants to fuck up into your sweet god-damn ass just as soon as you’re done eating yourself from his dirty fingers. 

It is all so dangerous. To entertain such a delusion. 

To have the delusion moan, and shiver, and pull at your hair.

Suck at your slit. Bruise and loosen you.

Until you come, and come, his name on your mind, his name written in the come in your hand and all over your chest.

His name written in your desk diary. 

The only appointment now that matters.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pre-Florentine Nightmares](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15964910) by [HanniballisticMissile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanniballisticMissile/pseuds/HanniballisticMissile)




End file.
